


AxG Week fics 2016

by going_going_gone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Dancing, Drinking, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Jealous Arya, Jealous Gendry, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Not to hate on Aegon but..., Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:15:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/going_going_gone/pseuds/going_going_gone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of my AxG week fics all together, wrapped up and ready for you. Have at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jealousy

Arya’s knuckles were white against the bar, her face flushed with anger. She couldn’t help but glance out of the corner of her eye towards Gendry, a ways down the bar. He stood straight among a sea of slumped bodies, all of them stumbling with intoxication. He looked like a giant among them.

It made her stomach flutter, watching him, but the feeling was squashed by the pretty little brunette who was hanging off of him, tilting her head up at him and batting her eyes like an imbecile. She could barely stop a growl from rushing past her lips at the sight.

A part of her understood that she was being unreasonable. It was a free country, and Gendry was a single guy at a club. It made sense that he’d be flirting. But it still made her angry. Just that realization was enough to make her blood boil.

They hadn’t always been like _this_. They were just friends, and it was only recently that Arya discovered she wanted more than friendship from Gendry. She didn’t know what more was, exactly, but for one, she’d like him to slide his hands over her hips like he was doing to that stranger.

Arya gulped, trying to shove the images of his hands roaming over her body away from him. It really wasn’t the time to get herself all worked up over him, not unless she was going to woman up and finally act on these thoughts.

With a brutal huff, Arya shoved away from the bar in search of one of her other companions.

They’d gone out as a group, all the Stark children- excluding little Rickon, of course, who couldn’t get into this bar for another four years, when he turned 18- each of them bringing a friend or two.

Sansa had Margaery with her, the two girls clinging to each other while they drank themselves into a stupor. They were so overtly affectionate with each other, Arya was surprised people hadn’t guessed what was happening between them. She could spot it a mile away.

Theon had tagged along after Robb and Jon, sleazily hitting on anything with a pulse and knocking back jaegerbombs like they were water and he was dying of thirst.

Jojen and Bran were off in a corner cloudy with stinking smoke, pretending they weren't high as kites.

And she’d brought Gendry, who was practically groping that _stupid_ girl. Overall, Arya seemed to be having the least amount of fun of all of her siblings. Except perhaps Jon. she hurried over to him when she saw him brooding off in a dark corner, staring at the crowd around her.

“What’s with the frowny face?” she asked teasingly, poking his cheek with the lip of her beer bottle. He frowned even deeper at her.

“Not having much fun right now. Robb and Theon are doing shots with some college girls over at the bar.”

Arya’s lip curled. It looked the were doing shots _off_ of some college girls. Considering both she and Sansa were college girls, it sort of grossed her out that her eldest brother and his closest friend felt alright chasing after them. It creeped her out. “Shameless, those two,” she groaned. “I really don’t want to cover for them with Mum.”

“Oh please, covering for Robb and Theon is an honored Stark tradition," Jon snarked, offering her a small smirk. She knew that making fun of those two was always the best way to make her favorite brother smile.

“Well, at least they’re using legal methods of relieving their inhibitions.” She nodded over towards Bran and Jojen, who seemed particularly engrossed in the play of the party lights on the ceiling. They were too far gone for how early in the evening it was.

“Starks sure know how to party!” Margaery Tyrell exclaimed suddenly, from her new position at Arya’s elbow. Arya jumped about fifty feet in the air. How had the girl snuck up on her?

Margaery leaned heavily against Sansa, who in turn leaned heavily against the wall. “Why hello!” she drawled, grin plastered over her face as she waved in an exaggerated way at her two siblings. Arya and Jon both gave a brief salute with their beers, mirroring each other unintentionally.

Her gaze swept over her sister and the girl Arya _suspected_ was her lover. Both wore scandalously revealing dresses and heels that looked more like torture devices than shoes. Margaery’s hands rested comfortably on Sansa’s arm, and the other seemed to be traveling rather stealthily over her sister’s behind. Arya blushed. Jon looked amused.

“‘Cept you, Jon. Gosh, you look so grumpy,” Margaery continued. “You need to get laid!’

Sansa’s eyes lit up, and her smile turned mischievous. “Oh, Marg, what a good idea. Jon, we’ll _help_ you get laid!”

Arya stuffed her fist into her mouth to keep her laughter contained. Jon sent her a panicked look.

“Help me!’ he exclaimed as both girls grabbed at him.   
Arya backed away, hands raised in apology. “And get myself sucked into that mess? No thank you.”

With that, she abandoned Jon to Sansa and Margaery’s clutches, turning tail and trying to find her way back to the bar. Her beer bottle was empty, and, seeing how this night didn’t seem like a promising one, she figured she might as well switch to something a little bit harder.

Theon’s favorite advice was _Beer before Liquor,_ anyhow, right? There was no harm in it, right?

Four shots later, she knew what the harm was. Arya had loosened up considerably, which might seem fun right then, but a part of her brain knew she’d regret dancing with this weirdo in the morning.

He had blue hair and roving hands, and her breath caught with each brush of his fingers.

“I’m Griff,” he murmured against her neck as they swayed together.

“Don’t care,” she answered breathlessly, and he chuckled at her. She ignored it, instead sinking into the feeling of his body against hers.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Margaery and Sansa in a likewise situation, Margaery resting her head on Sansa’s chest and exploring the rest of her with her hands. Arya looked away. No way would she let that ruin what she was feeling.

Griff nipped the skin of her neck and she shivered.

But before he could make her feel any better, a large figure ripped the two of them apart.

Gendry peered down at her, eyes stormy and brow furrowed. He shook Griff once, and shoved the slightly shorter man away. “Don’t you touch her,” he growled.

She was ready too snarl at him, but then Jon was behind him, looking both disappointed in her and angry at the stranger who had just been _groping_ his sister.

Griff took one look at this girls two protectors and tucked tail. He thought she was hot, but not hot enough to risk any missing limbs.

Arya watched the blue head bob off through the crowd and she scowled at them both. “What in Seven Hells was that for?”

Gendry stared at her. “What do you think? He was practically inside you!’

Jon blanched, suddenly looking uncomfortable. Arya rounded on _him_ . “And you! I distinctly remember seeing a redhead slip her hand into your pocket and start _searching_.”

Jon’s blushed worsened. “Arya-”

But she wasn’t done. “I’m not a child anymore. I can dance with who I want, I can shag who i want, and neither of you get too have a say in it!”

Gendry wouldn’t back down, though, looking ready too pick her up and take her home, just so she wouldn’t do anything stupid for the rest of the night. Like dance with anyone else… Anyone but _him_.

Jon began backing away suddenly, sensing that whatever was happening with his sister and her best friend was best left between the two of them. They looked like they wanted to kiss or kill each other, and he refused to stick around and find out. He understood why he was more comfortable with Gendry kissing her than that stranger. He knew Gendry. Gendry was a good man.

Plus, he just didn’t want to think about Arya doing _anything_ right now. He was having a hard enough time seeing Sansa and Margaery right now. He had his fill of seeing his sisters " _dancing"_ with people for the night. Maybe he’d find that redhead again. She’d called herself Ygritte and snorted when she laughed and he found her charming in a rough sort of way.

Gendry tried to herd Arya towards the exit of the club while Jon wandered away, but she wasn’t having it.

“Listen, you stupid, stubborn idiot, I’m not leaving!”

“Arya!” he barked, but she stomped on his foot and took off in the opposite direction.

He followed close behind, ignoring the pain in his foot- which was intense, because Arya wasn’t known to hold back, even when she was drunk- but then, he was also ridiculously drunk, and maybe that’s why he could work through the pain. She was a bobbing brown head in a sea of people but he had no trouble keeping track. Arya had this way of walking, even after tequila, that denoted grace and confidence. Every step seemed to glide into the next. It made her hips sway sexily. It was hard to miss.

When he finally caught up to her, they’d reached a small alcove, and she rounded on him immediately. He realized immediately that this was a trap she’d led him into, because she attacked him soon after.

Arya was quick to wrap her hands around her neck. Because if he was going to be a dick, if he was going to fuck up the _only_ thing that had kept her from going over to him at the bar and tearing him away from that girl, then she’d show him just what he was getting himself into.

Her lips crashed into his with force, and her body did the same. She couldn't bear any space between the two of them, touching every part of him she could reach. She smiled against his mouth when his own hands started exploring the expanse of her back, delving tentatively to cup at her arse. She arched into the touch, continuing her conquest of his mouth.

Arya nipped at his bottom lip, requesting entrance, and after a few hot seconds he gave it. She dipped her tongue between his lips and tasted the beer still on his tongue. It was cheap and sour, because even after he’d left his poverty-stricken childhood behind, Gendry still hated spending money. The thought made her want him even more. She ground her hips against him, feeling the hint of his arousal hard against her own body.

Hissing between his teeth, Gendry tried to resist the thrusting of her hips, but there was nothing for it. She moved so well, even now, even when their bodies pressed so close together he was almost mindless with it. He breathed hard when she pulled away, smirking up at him.

“Want me to leave now?” she asked mischievously.

He couldn’t find it in him to say anything for a moment, but after he’d caught his breath he nodded. “I want you to leave with me,” he told her, answered the slight widening of her eyes with his own smirk.

She groaned. “I don’t want to see you with another girl,” she admitted, panting against him. He pulled back, staring at her. Was she talking about _Jeyne_?

“She’s just a friend, Arya!” he exclaimed.

“So was he,” she responded petulantly, referring to her dance partner. But Gendry just scoffed, not even bothering to respond too that. “Serves you right, letting that girl hang all over you.”

He rolled his eyes at her, leaning in and capturing her mouth again for a long moment, finally taking charge of a kiss between them. Their second.

It suddenly hit Arya that she’d kissed _Gendry_. Gendry, who was her best friend. It made her feel giddy. She pulled away and offered him a slightly less impish smile.

He smiled back. “What does this mean?” he asked.

Arya’s smile faded, and Gendry’s muscled tensed in fear. Would she… He shouldn’t have said anything. Gods, he’d ruined this. He began to draw away, face falling suddenly, but then Arya’s hands captured Gendry’s.

“It means you’re mine,” she answered confidently.

“Oh, yes, m’lady?” he teased. “Do I belong to you?”

“Yes,” she growled, without a second thought.

He smiled. “Sounds great.”

“So, about going back to your place…” Arya asked.

Gendry grinned, pulling Arya closer to himself and lifting her into his arms. “Say no more.”

The trip home went by quick. They paid no mind to the cabbie, which Arya might have worried about if Gendry’s mouth wasn’t on her neck. Instead, she was blind and deaf to the world.

Gendry carried her into his street side apartment and didn’t let her go until they made it into the bedroom. There, he let her down, and she pulled back a bit. Her hands started to work at the buttons on his shirt, fumbling with the tiny things in the dark of the room. He was quick to help, hands joining hers until his chest was bare to her. Her mouth was on him immediately, sucking and nipping at the exposed flesh. He groaned, and began unbuckling his belt.

Everything she did too him made his jeans shrink more and more against his cock. He needed room too breath. But he didn’t want to stop feeling her skin against his. He yanked his pants off one handed, relieving the pressure only a little bit. Next he pulled down his underwear.

Arya backed away when she caught wind of what he was doing, fumbling to get her own shirt off. When the fabric was over her head and she could see once again, she was greeted with the sight of _Gendry_. Except it was more of him then she’d ever seen before. His chest she knew well, because he liked to work without a shirt on when he could, but still she marveled at the play of muscles under his skin. He was so _strong_. Her gaze traveled lower, over his hard stomach and his hips, taking in his strong thighs, and the thing that stood at attention between them.

Gendry felt her eyes on his cock like a caress, and his breath hitched at the look in her eyes. She looked lusty and beautiful. And then he noticed that she had _way_ too many clothes on for his liking. He surged forward, happy to help her draw her pants off, and then her panties, and finally, _finally_ her bra. He almost gasped at the sight of her, all that creamy white skin. She wasn’t soft and curvy like a lot of girls, no, Arya was beautiful in her own way, with small, firm breasts above a taut stomach. Her arms and legs were lightly muscled, and he was reminded of how powerful and talented Arya was. It made his cock twitch.

She loved the way he looked at her like she was the prettiest person in the world, because she’d gone so long thinking she wasn’t.  But he wouldn’t look so awed if she wasn’t everything he could want.

Now with no cloth barriers between them, they fell together once more. Gendry’s hands found her breasts immediately, toying with her nipples and palming the small handfuls gently. But Arya didn’t want gentle. As she kissed him, Arya covered her own hands with his, urging him to pinch and squeeze harder. He moaned when he realized what she wanted, and didn’t hesitate to give it to her.

All the while, Arya’s hands stroked him. After he started paying harder attention to her chest, Arya’s hands roved downward. She brushed against his cock, lightly, almost as if she’d done it accidentally, but then she did it again, and again, feather light touches that made Gendry groan and pull away from her. Suddenly he hauled her onto the bed, laying her down beneath him and giving her a dark smile. “Teasing me, m’lady?” he asked. She only smiled in response.

With a shrug, Gendry turned his attention back too her breasts. His actions made her confused, but then she felt his mouth moving down her throat. When his tongue brushed against one of her nipples, Arya couldn’t breath for a moment. But before she could enjoy the situation he went lower, pressing kisses to her stomach, and then her hip, he drew her legs apart and ghosted his lips over both of her thighs.

And then…

The first feel of his tongue on her sex made her keen, high and long, and he chuckled against her sensitive skin. He continued, licking along her slit slowly, just missing the one spot she wanted him to touch, the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. But the attention he gave her was almost enough, leaving her breathless and sweaty.

Every few moments, Gendry would look up at her, eyes alight to see her head tossing on his pillows, sending her brown hair about and creating a makeshift halo around her head. At the moment she did look quite like an angel. He nuzzled her and delved his tongue into her opening. She was warm and wet and she tasted amazing.

He couldn't believe how hard his cock was. It almost hurt, how much he wanted to be inside of her, but first... First he wanted to make her come for him. With that goal in mind, Gendry turned his attention to her clit, brushing a little against it to see how she would react. A gasp made him glance up. She was staring down at him, cheeks flushed, brow furrowed. So he licked it again, and got to watch her mouth fall open and her eyes fall closed as she moaned for him. He almost came, right then and there, but somehow he held out.

He took the little bud into his mouth, sucking and stroking, all while bringing two finger up, slowly probing her opening and playing with her. His other hands tweaked her nipples and stroked her stomach. Soon she was beyond anything, moaning and whimpering, putty in Gendry’s hand. Then he gave her one final, intense stroke with his tongue, and Arya was flung apart.

Her fingers were no match for his talented mouth. She came harder than she’d ever come before, Gendry’s name on her lips the entire time. Her vision turned white for a long moment, and then she came down, blinking. He was staring at her, smirking, waiting for her to finish convulsing. She lay back, closing her eyes, breathing heavily, but he gave her little respite, climbing her body, kissing her all over along the way. She whimpered and opened her eyes to watch him. He brushed his lips against hers.

“I need you,” he growled, and she felt his voice in his chest. It turned her on even more than she thought she already was.

“I need you more,” she answered, never one to be outdone.

Gendry grinned, kissing her again, but Arya needed him now. She reached down, taking him in hand, and lined him up against her opening.

“You’re a demanding little vixen, aren’t you?” he groaned, letting her tug him along by the cock- literally. But all joking was aside when he felt her wet heat against his cockhead.

“Now,” she moaned, and Gendry, not wanting to  disappoint, gave her what she wanted.

She was slick and ready, her muscles clenching around him as if she was welcoming him in. It was all he could do not to come right there. She gasped but urged him on, hands finding their ways to his shoulders and holding on for dear life.

Gendry sunk into her, as far as he could go, and started slow. He needed to make this last as long as possible. His first time with Arya, it needed to be absolutely _perfect_

Arya had never felt so full before. Gendry was _big_ , and she’d never actually done this before- with anyone besides herself, of course- and the fit was a little tight, but the pain only lasted a moment before Gendry’s slow, steady rhythm had her panting. She whined low in her throat.

They both felt the building up to an orgasm, and the pressure in her lower belly burst a few moments before Gendry’s, whose breath hitched to feel her clenching so perfectly around him. He groaned and suddenly he was following right after her.

They fell limp and drew apart only to lay side by side. It was too hot to bother with anything by a sheet, and Gendry could barely manage to get it over them before both of them drifted to sleep.

 


	2. Protect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one before the long one coming next.

Gendry’s just as angry as Arya. Gendry is angry, and hard, and when Arya comes back he doesn’t stop her. Gendry is her silent companion, always beside her, ready to protect her even if he knows she doesn’t need it, but he lets her have her vengeance, even if he knows she goes to far.  

Gendry won’t step in and remind Arya that her father wouldn’t want her to act this way. Gendry didn’t really know Lord Stark. And Gendry saw what she went through, knows that honor has no place in a world where such things could have befallen a child. Gendry is her silent companion, not her judge, not her reminder.

When the other men try to step in, try to question her, his response is swift. If they were willing to follow Mother Merciless, they should follow her Vengeful Daughter, the daughter who rid the world of her gnarled, broken mother. The men don’t question her for long.

When word of the Bolton defeat he doesn’t urge her to go north, nor does he as her to stay. Arya must make her own decisions, but he knows he’ll follow her anywhere. Gendry is her silent companion, not her partner. Arya leads the way. Arya always leads the way.

It’s not until they reach ride north that he finally breaks his silence. She’s barely within sight of the castle before she decides she wants to turn back, to continue her wholesale slaughter of Frey’s. She’s already turned her horse around when he calls out her name. 

She turns around, confused, because it almost feels like Gendry is questioning her. 

And he is. He tells her that he won’t let her turn back. He knows, he tells her. He knows that she’d afraid.

And when the men see Arya’s face, they move away from the pair, the Leader and the Follower, the Talker and the Listener, roles now reversed. The two of them are as alone as they could be with the Brotherhood several feet out of ear-shot.

_ I’m never afraid _ , she thinks and says all at once. But he isn’t listening. instead he’s talking more than he has in the last year that they’ve been Arya _ and _ Gendry together, as opposed to Arya ** and ** Gendry apart. 

“You’re afraid that they’ll think you aren’t you. You’re afraid that they won’t recognize you, and then you can’t be you anymore. You won’t tell me who you were before this, but I know it wasn’t Arya, or Arry, or anyone I knew.

“You aren’t the Arya they knew because you aren’t a child anymore. But they aren’t going to turn you away because they aren’t the Starks you remember either. None of us are the people we were before.”

This is more than he said before, and it’s truer than his silence because he’s finally stepping in, _ stopping _ her.

“I’ll carry you to the castle if I have to.” he threatens.

But it’s not necessary. She turns her pale horse and races towards the castle, and Gendry isn’t a good rider, but he’s good enough to follow her, because that’s what he’s always done and when they get to Winterfell she’s crying, crying hard, and there are people waiting there. He doesn’t step in. Gendry will never simply be her silent companion ever again, _ he’s _ gone too far this time, but he still wants to protect her, especially when she needs it. 

The people who waited inside the gates were Starks, even if most of them did not look like Starks. Arya’s sister and brothers had red-hair, he remembered. Red hair like Lady Stoneheart had lost in that river, with that slice to her throat. 

They flock to her then, all four of them. But she turns back to him first, turns back to meet his eyes, perhaps to make sure that he’s still there, before she goes to them. He nods at her. He’ll always be there for her, he’d decided that long ago. 


	3. You'll Be Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you guys be interested in more of this AU?

She’d thought they’d be together forever. It seemed cliché, and just thinking it made her want to roll her eyes, but it was the _truth_. Maybe she’d caught the romance bug from Sansa, or her mother. But Aegon had felt like forever.

Looking back on it, the relationship had its flaws. He had a bad temper, something she’d worked so hard to get over as a child, and he was much too happy to lie to get what he wanted. He was arrogant and he listened to stupid music. They didn’t really _mesh_.

But it was only when she found about Lyanna and Rhaegar that the relationship ended. Or rather, that she ended the relationship.

Her father had waited so bloody long to tell them. And then…

The blow-out fight they’d had at the Stark Estate, Jon’s vows that he was never coming back, her mother’s tears…

She’d gone to Aegon hoping for comfort, hoping that he’d help her to understand how to move on knowing about Lyanna and Rhaegar, knowing about Jon’s true parentage. Instead she’d discovered that he’d known all along.

“Was it some sort of sick need to follow in his footsteps?” she hissed. Everyone said she looked like her Aunt, and Aegon was the very picture of his father.

He grinned, pulling her towards him by the hips.

“Isn’t it perfect? I know you hate the way they look at you. They want you to be the perfect lady, everything that Lyanna wasn’t. Isn’t this the perfect way to-“

“Stop. Stop it,” she snapped, slapping his hands away.

“Arya,” he sighed, trying to draw her back to him. But she moved across his room, couldn’t bear to let him touch her. “It’s not as simple as that. You know I love you..”

“But it’s why you talked to me in the first place?”

“Yeah, sort of,” he shrugged. He shrugged as if it didn’t even _matter_.

“I’m not going to be your statement anymore. I’m not going to let you shove me in everyone’s face,” she told him.

“You’re breaking up with me?” he exclaimed.

“Yeah,” she answered.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It doesn’t mean anything, Arya.”

“If you knew, why didn’t you tell Jon?” she asked, the idea suddenly taking hold. Because he was Jon’s half-brother, wasn’t he? “He’s been waiting his whole life. He’s been so _lost_. And you knew. You could have settled _everything_.”

“Arya,” he repeated.

“No one in my family will talk to anyone. Jon’s gone off to join the army. You’re a self-serving idiot and you’ve ruined _everything_.”

“You’re not going to leave, Arya. Don’t be over dramatic!”

“Fuck off!” she shouted, whipping towards the door.

“You’ll be back! You’re being _irrational_!”

It took weeks for things to even approach normal. Jon had been serious about joining the army, though. He’d enlisted that night, and there was no going back from there. He was too much like her father to go back on something he’d sworn to do. Arya begged him not to go, tried to convince him to stay, but when Jon was given word that he’d been accepted in, he was more than happy to ship off to the wall and fight Wildling insurgents and defend the borders and all that patriotic bullshit that the politicians (her father included) droned on about.

Her mother didn’t leave her room for days before and after Jon left. Arya _hoped_ it was out of guilt. Arya hadn’t spoken a word to her mother since the night of the fight. But really, what was she expecting. This was a long time coming. She’d watched Catelyn Stark mistreat her dearest brother for her whole life. Now, _finally_ , she had her a chance to explain to her mother just how that made her feel.

It all compounded upon itself, and it made her head hurt. Thank the Gods that her classes had let out for spring break. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to get through her normally busy schedule with all of this on her mind.

Still, with everyone in the same house…

It’s what lead her to spending most of her time wandering Wintertown by day. She’d grown up in the city, knew it like the back of her hand, but even so, the streets held secrets even now.

For example, there was the alley on the west side so crowded with cats it almost seemed supernatural, until you realized that it was the alley where they threw all the garbage from the only sushi place in town.

Or the slum on the south side that actually shouldn’t exist, because her father was trying to bridge the gap and raise standard of living in the city. It was sort of an ugly place, and she felt really bad when she realized that they must just assume she was some rich girl slumming it. But wasn’t she? Her life was getting a little hard so she was trying to put it into perspective.

But Arya loved making friends, so even though the people living in Branda’s Square-named for one of her own ancestors, not the she was going to tell anyone she met here that- were a little leery of her, she could usually wring a laugh or two out of them. She was on a walk to visit Lorna and her new baby at the Wolf’s Den, a run-down little bar that did some shady business out the back, when she heard the pounding.

The resounding smack of a crowd cheering raucously resounded through the low-income neighborhood. She startled, glancing around herself. The street was crowded with people, all of who seemed more than happy to ignore the sound. Arya couldn’t follow their lead.

Patting her pocket, she reassured herself that her pocket knife, Needle, was in her pocket. Jon had given it to her six years ago, on her eleventh birthday, and she’d had it ever since. It was good to have protection when she didn’t know what she was about to get herself into.

It was easy to find the source of the sound, as it just so happened to be where she was headed to begin with. Lorna was a stripper who lived in a studio apartment above the bar, and Arya had taken a liking to her and her new-born little girl in the time she’d been discovering Branda’s Square.

She’d only ever been in the front part of the Wolf’s Den. The back was way over her head, the sounds, the smells, everything. Even she wasn’t reckless enough to head back there. Until today, apparently. Arya passed through the bar proper quickly, ignoring the passed out drunks dotted around the room.

Ducking past the curtain of beads separating the semi-brightness of the bar into the pitch darkness of a hallway, Arya began to hear more than just the crowd. She began to hear the unmistakable sound of skin hitting skin with a shit-load of force.

Making it through the hallway, she ducked through another bead-curtain and was met with a mad sight. An arena of sorts had been set up in an enclosed alley. That explained how she’d been able to hear the noise from the street. A crowd of dirty, jeering people, mostly men, surrounded a makeshift ring with two half-naked men pounding on each other.

Silver hair was stark against the dark atmosphere of the alley. She gasped. What the _hell_ was Aegon bloody Targaryen doing here?

He was the smaller of the two fighters, but Arya knew just how strong he could be. Still, his opponent was an ox of a man, largely muscled and at least six and a half feet tall.

She rushed forward, thoughtless as ever towards the dangers of such rash action. The crowd was tightly knit, forcing her to shove loud, dirty strangers out of her way. Arya vaulted over the wooden pallets that acted as a barrier between spectators and combatants. She let out a yell and clobbered the tall one across the head.

He turned, shaking his head at her in confusion. “Oi, what the fuck?” he shouted. But she was staring at Aegon.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed. He stared at her like he couldn’t believe she was there.

“Arya?”

“Yes, shit-head. Now, what the hell is going on?”

The crowd had gone silent when she’d hit the big guy, but when they realized that was the end- she hoped- of the violence their complaints raised in a crescendo of yells.

“Arya, get the fuck out of here. You shouldn’t even be here. It’s not a safe part of town.”

“I can handle myself you _idiot_. I’m not leaving until you explain yourself!”

“Targaryen, get the bitch out of here!” a cruel looking balding man shouted, revealing rotting teeth.

“Shut your mouth!” she growled, flashing the man a look.

“Give me a second!” he replied, grabbing her upper arm and tugging her back the way she’d come. Arya struggled for a moment, but the look of the crowd as he lead her away stopped her. These were not nice people.

“What the hell, Egg?” she rounded on him when they entered the dark hallway. She didn’t realize she was using the endearment until it slipped out. His eyes softened for a moment, but he still looked raging mad.

“Not everyone has mommy and daddy to pay for everything, Arya. In fact, not everyone has mommy and daddy,” he reminded her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t try to guilt trip me, you asshole. You withheld important information and you’re the one punching some random man in an alley in the shitty part of town!”

“I’m making money. And it’s not like the Bull’s defenseless.”

“The Bull?”

“Big guy who you tried to knock about? They call him the Bull. And I’m the only one who’s even come close to beating him.”

“Were you doing this before-“

“Before you _broke up_ with me? No.”

“You’re a moron. I hope someone punches your brains out!” she growled. Yanking her arm out of his grip, Arya stormed off.

 

She didn’t return to the Wolf’s Den for two weeks. Arya felt bad, bailing on Lorna without explaining the situation, but honestly, after what she’d seen…

She’d thought about texting Aegon each night, asking him to stop, asking if he’d won, or gotten in trouble because of his actions, but she stopped herself each time. Ending it had been the best option after the shit he’d pulled, and it wasn’t her responsibility to make sure he made good choices when they weren’t together. Fuck him.

But she went back anyway, even after debating with herself for fourteen days.

It wasn’t to see Aegon, she told herself. Mostly it was to check the place out, maybe ask Lorna a little bit about the back street boxing or whatever the hell it was, see if it was as dangerous as it had looked.

But Lorna wasn’t in when she came to the bar. The baby was at her mother’s and the bar was oddly crowded.

She gave a cursory glance around, but didn’t spot any silver-haired assholes.

“Hey, you’re the girl who hit the Bull!” one of the men at the bar exclaimed. She turned to the voice, taking in the fifty-ish looking man strumming a beat up looking guitar as he perched on a bar stool.

“So?’ she snapped, hoping her hostile attitude would drive the stranger off.

“You made a ballsy move there, girl,” he replied. “I’ve known the boy for a while, more sullen little shit’s never lived, I swear.”

“I had business with the idiot he was pounding on,” she shrugged.

“What’s your name, girl?”

She was cautious. On one hand, he seemed harmless, but on the other… “Arya,” she answered against her better judgement.

“I’m Tom Sevenstream. The Bull’s…hype-man? I think that’s what the kids call it, right?”

“Hype-man?”

“I follow him about and make sure people are properly afraid of him before they fight him. Beric there made sure he was a damn good fighter. There was talent there, but Beric…” Tom had pointed to a rather gnarled looking man with cauliflower ear and a nose so broken it made Arya wince.

“Howdy,” the man gruffed.

“Thoros there is our…religious advisor,” Tom said. A portly, balding man wearing a terrible Hawaiian shirt nodded to her.

“And the rest of the boys…” Tom announced, gesturing to the men sat at the counter, who waved as a group. “But it’d take much too long to introduce the fuckers.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

“Politeness sake. And, well, cause you know the _Silver Prince_ ,” Tom said. The name seemed to elicit laughs from the crowd of men who associated themselves with the Bull.

“Silver Prince? He give himself that name?” she asked. Because just leave it to Aegon to call himself that, arrogant bastard.

“No, no. But he sure won’t let it go now. Pisses the Bull off, seeing a rich boy like that come prancing in trying to take over just because he can.”

“Aegon’s not rich.”

“Don’t matter, does it? He’s from up on the hill, so he’s a rich boy.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she accused. “Where he lives doesn’t matter.”

“Easy for someone like you to say,” a gruff voice challenged from behind her.

She turned around and was met with a ridiculously large person. It was the Bull. He had soot black hair that fell into his blue eyes, and he was a handsome asshole. His good looks felt like a personal affront to her.

“ _Someone like me_?” she snapped. Not for a moment did Arya consider that being rude to a violent giant was a bad idea.

“Rich girl. You didn’t exactly hide it.”

“I wasn’t trying to hide it. I was only here to…”

“If you’re looking for your boyfriend, he won’t be back here again. Once I beat him he ran off with his tail between his legs.”

Arya huffed, because this guy was a dick. She blew out of the bar like he wasn’t speaking to her.

She stewed about the boy for days after. She went to Aegon’s house to check on the fool, all the while thinking about the Bull’s stupid pretty face.

“I knew you’d be back,” he laughed around his split lip. He looked terrible, and she was glad he did, because he deserved it.

“I’m not back for you. I want you to tell me about that alley. Tell me everything about the whole business they have set up.”

He looked scared then, and he warned her that she didn’t know what she was getting into, but she wouldn’t budge, so he explained that it was just some illegal fight club, that they had fights every week- a lot for fighters, more than was allowed in official leagues- and that the Bull was their prized fighter. Anyone else was just asking for a loss when they went into the ring against him.

“You planning on fighting him?” he asked.

She wasn’t, not really. Arya was a stubborn, angry girl, feisty, Jon would call her, and she got herself into sticky situations all the time, but even she wasn’t reckless enough to challenge him. Not to a fair fight. She’d never win.

“I don’t know what I’m planning. But he’s stupid and arrogant and I don’t like that there’s a shitload of drunk, angry men punching each other in back-alleys in my father’s city.”

“My father’s city,” Aegon laughed. “Listen to you. Arya, you’re just as arrogant as the Bull.”

She scoffed, and wanted to hit him, but he was bruised enough, so she left him.

She found herself back at the Wolf’s Den two days later, almost accidentally. It was a fight day, and she drifted into the back without really deciding to. She recognized Tom Sevenstreams, Thoros, Beric, and some of the other men from the days previous as she approached the jeering crowd. The Bull was pummeling a wiry red-haired man who was grinning through a bloody nose and seemed simply happy to be in the ring.

Arya settled into the crowd, watching the fight in fascination.

Her mother had never allowed them to watch violence in television. She’d tried to rebel, watching crime procedurals, sometimes catching the head-end of a rugby match, but Catelyn Stark was adamant about the rule.  

This was like jumping straight from safety into the fire, no frying pan in between.

The Bull used his fists like hammers, pounding away, taking hits from his opponent like they didn’t matter. He relied entirely on being stronger than the person he was fighting, not blocking a single blow. It was a stupid way to fight.

She told him that, once the red-haired man was out cold on the dirty cardboard that served as a mat.

“What are you doing here?’ he snapped, allowing Beric to spray water into a cut on his cheek bone.

“You just let him hit you! What if you had to fight someone who was bigger? Do you even know how?”

“No one’s bigger than me,” he answered. She scoffed.

“Why are you here?” pressed.

“I’ve never seen a fight like that. Not before you and Egg. You fucked him up, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad. He deserved it.”

“You his girl?” the Bull asked. Tom, sitting on a bar stool off to the side, snorted and strummed at his guitar, but one look from the Bull quieted him.

“Not anymore. He’s a piece of shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your real name? It’s obviously not the Bull.”

“Might as well be,” he shrugged.

“But what is it really?” she asked.

“Gendry Waters,” he finally answered. “Why?”

“Because I was wondering if… If you could help me learn how to fight? I mean, you can’t really teach me much, because you fight like a giant and I can’t fight like that, but maybe you can help me learn how to punch, or…”

“Silver Prince hit you?’ Gendry growled, eyes darkening suddenly.

“What?” she exclaimed. “No, ‘course not. I was just… I was just wondering. I tried karate when I was a kid, but my mom didn’t like it.”

“I- I guess. Beric could help too. He used to brawl when he was younger,” Gendry shrugged, looking relieved.

She glanced at the grizzled man. “Perfect.” She hopped off of her stool, headed towards the door.

“You’ll be back?” Gendry called out to her.

She nodded. “I’ll be back.”


End file.
